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It's like boiling water, just to tug on the steam Or running in a race, just to run from a dream We'll be burning our chairs, just to keep from the cold Or drilling a hole just searching for hell, ringing satins red door bell with an oil rigging well It's like waking up in the night to a horrible smell Burning flesh from the shale and a house full of kids Bone's turn to ashes while pockets turn to gold. It's like somebody took, a knife to your chest, filled a vessel with your blood and decided to test, how much money you can make from killing someone, Can this blood on our hands replace the water that runs? Can this blood our hands replace the water that runs? How much money you can make from killing someone? Aus Songtexte Mania